La Petite Rouge
by Ben Alexander
Summary: What creature could be so dark and deadly? Some say a wolf stalked the children in the wood, but they lied... For something WAS waiting in the woods, and in this case, the truth was much more frightening than fiction...
1. Prologue: The Woods

**The DuBois Pentology  
Tale the First:  
La Petite Rouge  
(1812-1819)**

**  
Prologue: The Woods**

The woods were full of dark, twisted, ancient trees, and it was said that each had a story to tell... if one were brave enough to look.

Yet no one dared.

No one dared for the deep, dark woods were said to be evil... It was said that witches and evil spirits danced among the gnarled branches; haunting the dark forest... That once inside, _no one_ was safe... _especially_ the children...

For many centuries, stories had been told of the beasts within... Wolves were said to roam the woods freely; seeking fresh meat in the darkness of the night... For it was said that the wolves met little girls in the forest, only to devour them in the shadows.

But all of these stories were of course complete lies; stories told to frighten children out of wandering into the wood, only to become lost.

If there _were_ any wolves in the forest, then they were completely harmless, and only spooked nearby villages whilst they howled at the full moon.

But if all of these stories were made-up, then why_ did_ so many wander into the deep, dark wood, only to vanish, and never be heard from again...?

Maybe, because there _was_ something waiting in the woods... Something indeed dark and deadly... And in this case, the truth was indeed much more frightening than fiction...


	2. Her

**Chapter One: Her**

Just as the sun set, Phillipe finished his work...

He entered the small one-room cottage, and frowned at the lone bed in the corner; _If only she could spend one night with me; then the bed wouldn't be as empty... _The frown became a small, wicked smile as he hung his hat on the hook on the wall, and stared into the mirror at his reflection; when he had been young, he might have been handsome if it weren't for the slight, pinched look about this face... he had been born premature, and his mother had thought his survival a miracle up until the day she died...

He winced in pain, as he spotted a souvenir from his day of work; he brought his finger to touch the small purple bruise right above his left cheek... _If only she were here to kiss it, and make the pain go away..._

Another day had been interrupted with thoughts and fantasies... all of them regarding _her; _the little girl from the other side of the town whom he had secretly loved from the time she was seven years old... She was a pretty little thing, with her red cheeks, and long black hair; he knew that she would indeed grow to be a beautiful woman... the envy of many women, and the desire of many men... But for now, he was the only one who dreamt of her at night... For now, he was the only man in France who could see the young thing for what she _truly_ was... an object; an object of desire... an object for _his_, and _only_ his use...

He sat down upon a small chair at the head of an old table, and groaned, as pain shot up through his body, and then dissipated; ever since they had died, he had been left to tend all the farm chores by himself; when they had died, he had been left alone and wanting... Four chairs, all but one being empty; when he had been a little boy, he had had two sisters... they had both died of the plague, and his mother... His mother had died a sad woman, the only joy in her life being her remaining son...

Phillipe said a small grace, as his thoughts returned to the beautiful rich girl-- the object of all his desires...

He stared out the window at the waning moon, as he broke his bread; _She is beautiful, though, _he thought, stuffing a small piece of bread into his mouth, and swallowing it, without hardly chewing it, _And rich too..._ _Her father doesn't have to break his neck to get a loaf of bread. _He smiled to himself, as a lone wolf howled in the nearby wood, _Just like me,_ he thought, _Alone and hungry..._ His stomach growled, as he swallowed the last morsel of his sad supper, and his thoughts returned to his mother, _If she were still alive, she might be able to help me..._ His smile widened, _Don't they say, 'if you want something, you should let yourself have it...?'_

What was wrong with wanting a child...? Something he could understand... something he could feel great power over; when he had been younger, he might have been content with settling down with some old hag, and having hundreds of children running amuck... But now, he wanted something else... Something that was easily attained... _He wanted her...  
_


	3. Yellow Eyes

**Chapter Two: Yellow Eyes**

Nearly twenty miles away, on the other side of the wood, the girl whom Pierre was now dreaming of lay awake, tossing and turning on a small cot in the far right corner of a large square bedroom, similar to a prison-cell; a slight draft was blowing in through the open window, but she didn't have the strength to close it.

The usual rosiness in her cheeks had faded away to reveal pale skin, while her eyes remained dark and blood-shot from lack of sleep.

Marie-Christine was spending another sleepless night full of tossing and turning... Partly because of her new baby sister, Isbaelle, who was busy screaming in the second bedroom, but mainly because no matter what she tried to do, her thoughts were once again filled with _him._

A wolf howled in the distant wood, but its sad moan did not disturb her, for she knew the wolves were _nothing_ when compared to _him_

She rolled over on her side, to drown out the annoying sounds of the baby, just as they stopped. The wolf continued to howl, mournfully, just as her thoughts returned to the man who frightened her so...

_He stares at me, even in the shadows of darkness, with those eyes... The piercing, glowing eyes of yellow shot with red... The eyes that hunger for me even in the light of day...  
_  
She closed her brilliant blue eyes, as his face seemed to penetrate her mind... The face covered in calluses and blisters from years of hard labor; the red lips, which seemed to glistlen like blood whenver he would call her "La Petit Rouge." The frightening mouth opened to reveal several jagged teeth, yellowed from age... But none of these unpleasant features seemed to bother her when compared to his eyes... his yellow eyes shot with red, that seemed to-- to-- It can't be true, she insisted, shutting the frightening images away; _The frightening stories can't be true; he wouldn't hurt me... would he...?_  
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The following morning, just as the cock crowed, Marie-Christine awoke to find that she had overslept, and the daily chores had begun; _Why can't I fall asleep anymore?_ she wondered, slowly undressing.

_Mother and Father know that something is wrong with me_, she realized, _Otherwise they would not have allowed me to oversleep._

Dressed, and trying to look as if she had had a pleasant night's sleep, she opened the bedroom-door, and stepped out into the hallway; _I must have had another dream last night, _she realized; shuddering and thankful that it had faded away; _That was probably the reason why I could not wake on time... I wanted to reach the end..._

Marie-Christine smiled a bitter smile; knowing that the dream that had haunted her for all her life still remained unfinished; she opened the door that led to the garden, tried to push the bad thoughts away, and began her daily work.


	4. The Lone Wolf

**Chapter Three: The Lone Wolf**

In the shadows of moonlight, a tall man was running-- chasing after a small animal.

His quarry; believing itself to be safe at last froze in front of a small berry bush, and then dove inside-- easily camouflaged; but the man was too smart for it; his yellow eyes-- almost wolflike easily spotted it among the brush, and his callused hands shot out from underneath his cloak; easily snatching the defensless creature, and snapping its neck... killing it before ithad a chance tofight.

"You shall provide a decent meal," he whispered to the dead thing; standing up from among the brush, he was a tower-- a frightful thing; he tucked the corpse into his satchel, and began walking towards the center of the wood, where he knew an eager friend was waiting.

The yellow moon, shining in the midnight sky cast an eerie glow; bathing the wood in a light only to be rivaled by that of the sun.

A wolf howled in the distance, and Phillipe smiled to himself; as the creature slowly approached him; when they had first met-- months ago, the wolf had been thin-- ragged-- hungry; cautious-- frightened of man, but Phillipe had befriended him, and their worlds were better for it, "Hello friend," he whispered, getting down on all fours, and scratching the animal behind its short ears, "are you hungry?"

The wolf wined, impatiently, in reply,and Phillipe nodded, sympathetically, "I am hungry too, but not for the flesh of an animal," he threw the carcass of the rabbit upon the ground, and went on as the wolf leapt upon it, and began to eat, "No. What I seek is much more difficult to attain, for I crave the flesh of a girl... Her name is Marie-Christine, and she is the most beautiful creature this world has ever seen; soft skin of silk... What I wouldn't give to touch it! But, alas, this is not easily attainable, for she is well protected by her blundering father, and simpering mother," he spat upon the ground, and saw that the wolf; its snout now red with blood, had now finished its meal; he went on, "So, we are rather much the same as opposed to being different, are we not? We both are alone-- abandoned by those who were once are friends, and we, alone have sought each-others company, yet while I hunger for the girl, you hunger for the rabbit, Fiyero."


	5. Troubling Dream

**Chapter Four: Troubling Dream**

"Oh, Lord... She's having a fit," Marie-Christine's mother nearly screamed the obvious statement; usually a refined, pious woman, apt to keeping to herself, and never admitting to anything scandalous-- now practically going insane over her precious daughter's safety, and well-being, "Hurry," she hissed at her husband, as the baby began to cry in the other room; without another word said, her husband fled down the stairs, while his wife focused on their _very _sick daughter; Marie-Christine was still asleep, and it was nearing the fourteenth hour; she was gasping for breath-- _screaming, _as well... Her face was frightening as well; contorted into a scared, helpless expression that her mother had only seen once before in the face of a mad gypsy woman...

"Wake up," her mother begged, "wake up..."  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
His eyes were yellow; two fiery coals in the almost darkness that was the forest this time of day-- though it was only around five'o'clock in the afternoon-- the trees that grew so closely together enveloped them; shielded them from the rest of the world; his eyes flashed with humor, and though she knew how deeply she hated them, she remained-- alone, and cut off from the rest of the world by the dark trees. _

"I've never been this far in the forest," she whispered, falling to the ground, and taking some of the wildflowers that grew there, "You look beautiful," he pressed on, and she could feel his rough hands-- without warning-- wrapping themselves around her own, and his bitter tongue entering her mouth in an equally unwelcome and strange kiss...

She attempted to protest, but he was too strong for her; she fell on her back, and felt nothing but pain.

It faded to darkness...  
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"Hurry," her mother nearly screamed, as her husband reentered their daughter's bedroom, carrying a smoking goblet, "Pour it down her throat... _Not like that! _Here," she snatched the goblet out of his hands, and forced Marie-Christine's smooth lips open; they were scarlet-- nearly bleeding; the scalding liquid would probably burn her throat, but it didn't matter...  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
She was screaming now, but he wouldn't stop-- he _wouldn't; _she did not even understand what was going on, but one thing was certain; _she wanted it to stop, "_No!" she managed to gasp through the searing pain, but he wouldn't leave her... _

The forest grew darker still.

A lifetime seemed to pass-- although it was probably only a few seconds or minutes...

When he had finished at long last, he darted away-- leaving her bleeding and broken on the forest floor, surrounded by leaves, and as the wind blew throughout, they covered her body-- almost making a neat grave.

Yet she still screamed...  
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Her eyes snapped open; the room was totally dark, and she was having trouble breathing; at first she wondered if she was still on the forest floor; she was sweating buckets, "_Mother!" _she screamed; tears streaming down her cheeks-- cool hands held her face, "Shh, baby," her mother soothingly cooed, "it was only a dream... You're fine-- No one will hurt you."

"It was awful," Marie-Christine managed through sobs, "he held me, and tore at me-- He took something, and there was blood..."

"It's all right," her mother whispered, "just calm down..."


	6. The Strong Die Young

**Chapter Five: "The Strong Die Young" **

"This will give you the feeling you've been craving," the gypsy woman whispered; handing him a small pouch; he stared into the powdered mixture of roots and leaves doubtfully, "This?" he asked.

She nodded, "I promise that you will feel as though your soul is on fire this night."

He rummaged through his pockets for a few coins, and gave the old crone nearly everything that he had; she smiled toothily at him, and waved him away from her caravan.  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_Phillipe felt a strong sense of euphoria as the drug began its work; a chill was instantly sent up his spine, and his eyes watered warm, salty tears; he felt strong-- powerful-- almost as if he were a wild beast...

He fell to the floor of his cottage, and screamed-- _howled...  
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_Running through the midnight forest, Phillipe felt such an energy as to such he had never experienced before-- something he never knew he had possessed within himself before this night; everything about him was alive and ready for whatever lay within the forest... His heart racing in his chest, he knew that the drug had begun to take its effect on his bloodstream by the way it felt-- as though on fire; his blood was boiling, and his very soul seemed alive, and ready for anything that lay ahead.

Faster and faster he ran; everything seemed to be strangely illuminated; as he entered the center of the dark wood-- and it was _extremely _dark this evening, but his eyes could see everything for miles on end; _That gypsy woman was right, _he thought to himself, as he stopped dead in his tracks; something strange was going on-- the wolves of the forest were approaching; along with Fiyero, "What--?" he managed, but something even stranger was going on inside of him-- a sudden fire was quickly igniting within him-- flames of longing and unhappiness were suddenly licking at his soul, and before they had the chance to attack him, he lunged forward, and grabbed Fiyero by the neck; strangling him. Fiyero yelped in pain, "Too quick for you," Phillipe hissed, laughingly, as he pulled out a dagger from his pocket, as the euphoria subsided, and he pinned the helpless animal to the forest floor; the rest had fled by now; without a second's hesitation, he brought the dagger down into the creature's chest with a piercing scream that echoed in the night...  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_He awoke sometime later, not remembering the occurrences of the previous night; he was naked-- his clothes had somehow been torn off during his sleep, and he was lying on top of what appeared to be a strange combination of blood, fur, and mud; only after having opened his eyes all the way, did he realize what it was; "Fiyero," he whispered, stroking the creature's fur; staining his hands red with blood, "Who has done this?" he managed as tears once again stung his eyes, _The strong die young,_ a small voice echoed in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, "**_WHO HAS DONE THIS?" _**he roared.  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_Marie-Christine woke with a start.

"He's angry," she whispered.


	7. Demented

**Chapter Six: Demented**

She felt as though her brain was being cleaved in two... How could she have dreamt such a dream of the man whom frightened her so...?

She threw her red cloak on over her still trembling shoulders, and shuddered as the wind seemed to whisper _"La Petite Rouge..." _she was almost sure that her mother would scold her for leaving the house during such early hours of the morning, but she did not care...

Before she knew it, the clock had struck seven times in succession, and she was rushing down the narrow cobblestone path that led into town, _It's Sunday, _she reckoned, _They won't even miss me..._

But this statement wasn't necessarily true; ever since she had dreamt the dream that had caused her to throw a fit in her sleep, her parents had been watching every move she made; inquiring as to whether or not she was feeling well at least five times a day; their sudden protectiveness of her was almost driving her mad, in a way... for they _did _think her mad; _They act as if I am some drooling maniac-- If they think of me as such a creature, perhaps I would be better off in an asylum in England._

She shook her head, gently, and tried to focus on the beautiful shops that made up the streets that she was entering; she marveled at how the streets were so empty, but then she realized that it could not possibly be, for the wonderful smells that were entering her nostrils from the corner Baker's shop were telling her otherwise; _I wish I'd brought a few coins, _she thought, pressing her nose against the glass that made up the window of the shop, and staring into it, longingly; her stomach growled, feebly, and her thoughts-- for no apparent reason returned to the dream she had just had. It had been so frightening; _His face, _she shuddered, remembering the look on Phillipe's face when he had discovered the dead dog-- or wolf, or whatever it was...

_Stop it, _she thought, _after all, it was _just _a dream..._

"Morning, La Petite Rouge," a voice suddenly whispered; interrupting her thoughts, and before she had the chance to wonder who it was, the distorted image of his frightening face appeared in the glass of the window, and she spun around to find Phillipe clutching a bouquet of flowers in his rough hands.

"Good morning, sir," she whispered; addressing him informally-- not wishing to give away that her frightened heart was racing in her chest...

"I was just on my way to see you," he whispered-- _At this time?-- _his voice was hoarse, as if he'd been up all night screaming... she remembered the dream, and shuddered, as she excepted the flowers from him, and held them to her chest, "I wish I could stay and visit with you, but my grandmother is expecting me," she nodded her head to the nearby forest, and offering him an apologetic smile; she had never been a great liar, and both of her grandmothers were dead, but he wouldn't-- _couldn't _know that.

He slowly nodded, and Marie-Christine turned, "Goodbye, friend," she whispered, and with a slight wave, she turned her back to him, and began walking one again.

And although she had not planning on making a journey into the other side of the forest, she knew that _anything _was better than remaining all alone with Phillipe in town.


	8. Remedied

**Chapter Seven: Remedied**

As Marie-Christine wandered into the forest, Phillipe fled in the other direction; determined that today was the day upon which he would at last receive everything he had ever wanted... and more...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"You have returned," the small gypsy woman whispered, as Phillipe took a seat beside her.

He nodded, "I need-- _something... _something that would knock a girl unconscious for an hour or two."

She stared at him; her ancient eyes wide-- almost as if with misunderstanding, but the look soon subsided, and she pulled a small vial full of a shimmering silver liquid out of her pocket, "If one was to take this vial," she whispered, "and use it on someone, the person's eyes would remain open, but the rest of their body would almost freeze in a way... They would be utterly defenseless."

"Give it to me," he whispered, holding out his hand.

She shook her head gently, "I cannot."

"If you are afraid of being punished for selling it, I promise that if I am caught I will not place the blame on you."

"That is not what I fear," she replied, gently, tucking the vial away, "I have a moral duty to God and the stars to not allow you to have it, for if you were to take it, I know what would soon befall the girl your fantasies seek-- You will die if you attempt to harm her."

He laughed, gently, "You _will _give it to me," he quickly pulled out his hunting dagger, "whether you are aware of it or not..."

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Phillipe was soon within the forest again; the vial hidden away in his shirt-pocket-- he had murdered the gypsy leader-- the 'queen' as she was called, and he felt no remorse for his crime; she had attempted to come between what he wanted, and she had gotten what she deserved. He had last seen Marie-Christine nearly an hour before, and he knew that the way from this side of the forest to hers was to take nearly four or five; he knew this for he had made the journey many times before just to be able to watch her as she worked in the garden...

He smiled; today, all of his dreams would become realities, and Marie-Christine would at last be _his._

He suddenly remembered the gypsy's warning-- _'You will surely die if you attempt to harm her.'_

What did that old bitch know?

Besides, he wasn't going to hurt Marie-Christine much...

He laughed, hoping that when he found Marie-Christine, she would not put up much of a struggle...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

An untidy pile of discarded flowers... the tower that had served as a watching place in war times; he soon found Marie-Christine, and smiled at how helpless she was, as always; only this time, he would be able to take advantage of it.

_Little liar, _he thought to himself, watching Marie-Christine waking, _That will soon be remedied when you are mine... _He grinned, toothily, watching her; she had been sleeping beneath an oak tree, and her beautiful red cloak was lying beside her; she looked frightened as she stood-- anxious to get home.

She muttered something, but it was hard to decipher the word; he moved ever so slightly; disturbing the bush in which he had hidden, and making the slightest sound; her eyes fell on the spot, and she saw him, for she let out such a high-pitched scream that it echoed throughout the forest for miles on either end.

"No once can hear you now," he whispered, approaching her.


	9. Fearful

**Chapter Eight: Fearful**

Marie-Christine threw the bouquet of flowers onto the ground the moment she had lost sight of Phillipe behind the wide trunks of the trees that made up the forest; the small bundle of colorful flowers immediately fell apart-- the petals tore, and she continued walking without a second glance.

_I hope he won't follow me, _she thought, still frightened, as she quickened her pace; she realized that there were nearly fifteen miles ahead of her before she would be able to reach home, _It'll take about four hours, _she realized, with a heavy sigh, "I might as well enjoy my walk," she thought out loud... At least this part of the forest was beautiful-- sunny, as opposed to the frightening darkness that she would be forced to encounter later on...

_His eyes would find me there..._

She shuddered once again, and tried to focus on the beautiful sounds of the forest as she continued to walk...

Marie-Christine could not forget the dream, however, nor the strange way he had appeared in town; she tried to shut everything out once again by drinking out of a crystal-clear brooke, but that only seemed to make her more tense...

"_La Petite Rouge..." _the wind seemed to whisper, "Leave me," she whispered, "Leave me!"

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

An hour passed, and she had last passed the tall, doorless tower which served as a halfway point between one side of the forest and the other, "I'm almost home," she whispered, relieved.

But, she _had _entered the darkest part of the wood, and although she was a little frightened, sleep overcame her, and taking off her cloak, and settling down under a towering oak tree, she drifted off into sleep...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_He grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her away from her home; she screamed for help, but there was no one to listen-- no one to care..._

_Into the woods, they went; she fought, but he threw her to the ground, and bit her hands-- her neck-- her face..._

_She was his prisoner within the forest._

_His prisoner, and there was no way out..._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Her eyes opened for a moment, and flashed yellow-- _bright _yellow that made her eyes burn...

"No!" she screamed, trying to fight it off, but sleep came once again, and took her away with it...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_He whispered her name; she remained hidden beneath his house, but his hand caught her cloak, and--_

_A strange face flashed in front of her eyes; wrinkled and ancient; when it spoke, it sounded frighteningly cold, "He is near... Beware, my child. Beware..."_

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

She woke with a start once again, and stood; shaking violently, _"He's near," _she whispered; snatching her cloak up off of the ground, _I must--_

A sound; in the bushes, she faced them, and found yellow eyes there, she screamed, and he jumped out at her, "No one can hear you now," he whispered, and with a strong blow to the back of the head, she was knocked unconscious.


	10. A New Beginning

**Chapter Nine: A New Beginning**

She awoke sometime later in a very dark, small room, breathing in the familiar fowl breath of the man she loathed so very much, "Where am I?" she asked; trying to sound calm, although it was _very _difficult to remain calm in this situation.

"My home," he answered, and she realized that he was lying directly on top of her...

"Please," she begged, "let me go."

"Only after I've had the chance to finish what we've begun," and she realized-- with some hope that both were fully clothed.

"What time is it?' she asked; closing her eyes to shut out the sight of the two, piercing yellow eyes ones that were staring at her.

"Nearly seven," he replied.

"My parents--"

"Won't find you here, La Petite Rouge," he answered, and she felt him grab her arm, and gently kiss it.

"Please," she begged; a single tear rolling down her cheek, "let me-- What's that?" she suddenly asked, seeing the small vial of silver liquid shimmering in the darkness, "Something that will ensure that I get what I want," and before she could fight his advances, the sharp needle had pierced her flesh, and she let out a scream that was soon cut short as the drug began its dreadful work; she could no longer move... her eyes were forced open, for she could not close them-- she could not speak-- she could not scream; she could only listen and see.

"There now, little one," he whispered, and he began to undress...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

She wanted to scream-- to fight, but she could not, for the strange drug was both quick and long lasting; she felt awful pain, but she tried to remain sure that she would eventually escape, although she knew that giving herself false hope would be just as bad as death...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

He eventually finished.

He took himself off of her, and smiled, "You're not out of it yet, are you, La Petite Rouge?"

_Let me go, _she thought, pleadingly, _You've taken what it was you set out to take... Let me go..._

I shall sleep alongside you tonight-- our first night of many... _together, _and I promise I'll be up again when the drug wears off-- I'm a light sleeper," he explained, and yawned; settling down beside her.

_I'll never be home again, _she thought, hopelessly, as Phillipe began snoring...

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

When she was able to close her eyes, she nearly screamed, but then, regaining her head, she realized that her best bet was to stay there until the drug had worn off completely.

_Please work, _she thought, attempting to move her hands with no result but more bitterness, _Please work..._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

She slowly felt her hands reaching out... as quickly as the drug had taken effect, it was wearing off, _Thank God, _she thought, and without another thought, she rolled off of the small bed, and landed on the floor with ease; she felt nothing-- as the drug had worn off, it had numbed her nearly all over, but she still felt the pain of the act-- _God, give me strength, _she thought, grabbing her clothes off of the floor, and slowly dressing, _The pig will soon hang, _she thought, standing; her legs nearly gave way, but she continued walking towards the door, and out of the cottage; her trembling hands reached forward... but a rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder; holding her back, and causing her to cry out in surprise-- and then screaming in disbelief. Spinning around, she found him standing there, holding a second vial, and the bloody needle; her eyes widened in surprise-- _He has more-- _"You're not getting away from me," he whispered-- _Not again, _she begged... _It's now or--_

Thinking fast, she slapped the vial out of his hands, and it fell to the floor; shattering into a million pieces. She snatched the needle, and brought it down; into his hand-- blood squirted out of the open wound, and she tore away from him; determined to get away before being hurt for a second time.

She tore through the woods; unsure of which way she was headed, _Don't let him find me again, _she thought, wildly.

"Come back here, you little slut!" a voice screamed from behind her; she fell to her knees, and hid under a small bush; her legs still slightly numb, she closed her eyes; hoping that he would not discover her. Everything had gone horribly wrong... _I can't get away, _she realized at last, _These are his woods-- _His...

A single tear fell from her eye, as she realized that everything was lost, "Marie-Christine..." a voice hissed, and she stood, and began running again; _No escape, _she thought, _But if I--_

Then, something happened; her foot caught in a small hole in the earth, and she screamed, _No... _she thought; trying to break free of her bind to the ground, but the hole opened up, and swallowed her whole...


	11. Final Battle

**Chapter Ten: Final Battle**

Only after a small snapping sound announcing the landing that interrupted the silence of the forest, and a harsh pain that made her eyes water, did she realize that her arm had been badly broken, _This is _not _right, _she thought, standing, and looking up and out of the hole; _At least seven feet, _she realized, craning her neck to see the yellow moon slowly covered by the clouds that were rolling in. Then, her heart froze; the crunching of leaves told her that he was approaching, _No, _she thought for what seemed the millionth time that day, _Don't let him--_

"We seem to have had a pretty bad fall, haven't we?" his voice was full of amusement... perhaps the sick bastard found chasing her through the forest fun; he appeared over her, and with a wicked grin, noticed that Marie-Christine's left arm was limp, and dangling lifelessly at her side, "Lucky that broke your fall," he laughed, and she grimaced.

"Just let me go," she begged, "I want to go home."

"But I can't do that, La Petite Rouge," he whispered, "you would go telling your parents, wouldn't you? Then, what would become of me?" he held a third vial, "You are _mine, _little girl, and it will remain that way until the day I die."

"No!" she roared, angrily, "I am not yours! I belong to nobody but myself."

His smile widened, "But you _are _mine, dear... Don't you see that now? We are connected in more ways than one-- The dreams you've had... More or less they were my own fantasies about you... You cannot escape me anymore."

She was now sobbing heavily, "Please," she begged, "I'm helpless now... Just let me--"

"I can help you out if you like... but that comes with this," he shook the vial gently, "I will help mend your arm after the drug has taken its effect."

"No!"

"_Or, _I can leave you here, leave your arm broken, and break the other one as well... Either way, you will remain with me, and I will have you again every single night."

She closed her eyes, "I--"

"Which is it, Marie-Christine? Stay in this hole, or agree to return home with me-- after being drugged, of course."

Unsure if it was the right course of action to take, Marie-Christine slowly reached for his outstretched hand, and grabbed it.

"That's my girl," he whispered, and quickly brought her up onto the leave-strewn ground beside him, "now, hold still... It'll sting a bit..."

"No!" she screamed, and acting fast, she kneed him in the groin, and pushed him away from her so that he fell face-down in the hole, "Now it is you who are helpless," she whispered, satisfied; he had been knocked unconscious.

Her arm was aching, and her clothes torn and filthy; she had been hurt to a point beyond _anything _that _anyone _should be forced to endure, but she was all the much stronger for it; Phillipe would be punished, and the dreams would most likely cease to occur.

She still hurt inside, but she knew that eventually she would heal; the sun was rising, and as she slowly wiped the last tears away from her cheeks, and began the journey back home.

Marie-Christine would be fine... for now.


	12. Epilogue: Forever Changed

**Epilogue: Forever Changed**

Time went by...

Marie-Christine returned home from the forest, and after having told her parents of what had befallen her there, Phillipe was hunted down, and hanged in the Town Square the following day.

Seven years passed.

The dreams returned to Marie-Christine after having fallen in love with, and married the local blacksmith's son, Olivier; soon becoming pregnant with his child. During the nine months in which she carried the child, her thoughts constantly returned to Phillipe, and her mind began to slip-- the seriousness of what had occurred in the forest seven years earlier reaching its boiling point, and taking its toll on her life. She became distant-- cold; her eyes lost their sparkle, and her face became pale white; her once beautiful cheeks deprived of color.

Sometime during the month of May, shortly after her nineteenth birthday, she gave birth to a healthy boy, and before naming him, slipped away into a deep sleep from which she would never wake again.

Olivier is said to have taken his infant son to England after his wife's death, but sources cannot say what became of him without _some _doubt and speculation...

Marie-Christine's mother soon committed suicide the following year, while her father was left with the now seven year old daughter, Isabelle, whom he soon sent off to live with relatives on the other side of town...

Marie-Christine's death affected her sister tremendously, and although no one at the time could foresee it, without knowing it, Marie-Christine partially influenced the series of events that would eventually lead to her sister's demise...

**To be continued in:  
Snowfall**


End file.
